


Like A Moth To A Flame

by GraysonsLittleBird, thegalacticpope



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-03
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-18 00:51:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 17,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1408906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GraysonsLittleBird/pseuds/GraysonsLittleBird, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegalacticpope/pseuds/thegalacticpope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>**indefinite hiatus**</p><p>He was dead. He’d been dead for months. But when Damian turns up in a fit during a stormy night, it stirs up a panic for Jason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

The rain poured heavily from the stormy clouds above, cars occasionally honking to avoid the inevitable accident. Although he’d done his absolute best to avoid the downpour, it wasn’t enough to prevent him being soaked.

Jason stood now under a dilapidated piece of wood he’d found in the alley, making a desperate attempt to light his cigarette.  
During heavy storms like this, it wasn’t very likely anything was going to happen during patrol. Nobody wanted to have to run from Batman and whichever sidekick in the pouring rain, but of course, you could never be too sure. So, here he stood, crouched in the raging storm fighting with a wet lighter.

He knew better than to be here. After everything was said and done with Damian, Dick asked him to keep patrol in Crime Alley, his old district. He was told, that with Bruce out of town, they needed to spread out their resources. But he couldn’t stay. He’d gone through Crime Alley, and without fully paying attention he’d just kept walking. He walked and walked until he wound up in the alley he now stood in. Of course he recognized the place as soon as he looked up and though he’d never say anything, it broke his heart.  
It was the first place him and Damian had gone on patrol together, their first solo. Jason shook his head as memories flooded his mind. Taking a pause from his failure of a lighter, he took the second to squeeze his eyes shut. He had no idea what had brought him here, why he’d mindlessly walked all the way out here, to a place he hadn’t been in months. He came once, right after he found about about Damian’s death, and hadn’t come back since, he was almost too drunk to remember anyways. He just couldn’t figure out, why now. After all these months, why had he wandered all the way back here.  
He took all of three minutes to shake his head, and blame it on exhaustion and coincidence. It was a stupid alley, where they just so happened to be one night. They also went to the bowling alley, and lived in the same house, and knew the same people, and walked down the same street, just because he just so happened to take a walk and wound up here meant nothing.

With a final hard pull of the lighters spark wheel, a tiny flame came to life. Hurriedly, Jason brought the small flame to the tip of the cigarette and inhaled deeply, giving the tobacco life.  
A large clap of thunder ripped its way through the clouds as thunder lit up Gotham's skyline. The thunder hadn’t caused Jason to jump, but apparently somebody was bothered by it, he thought, as a scream chased the clap.  
Some kid scared of thunder. That had been his initial thought, but as the thunder harmlessly rumbled through the clouds another scream erupted through the rainy streets. Jason took a final haul of his cigarette before tossing it in the rain, to pursue the screaming.  
With the rain pounding the neglected roads, it made it hard to follow the screaming, but when he nearly ran into a fleeing couple, he figured he was headed in the right direction.  
Jason continued around the corner, to an empty street where he found the source of the screaming. It looked like the being was hunched over, arms wrapped around their midsection, and from what Jason could tell they were completely naked.

"Great,", Jason sighed with a roll of his shoulders, "Another freak out from Arkham."

The naked body scrambled to move forward, but legs buckled beneath the body, retching another scream from the obviously confused person. Jason tucked his gun away, and made a cautious advance.

"Alright buddy,", Jason yelled, "Stop your hollering,"

Scrawny arms struggled to hold themselves up as another scream ripped out of the weak body.  
Jason stopped.  
The scream wasn’t a scream of confusion, or fright, it was pain. Absolute, extreme, pain. Was this person hurt? Another scream, this time shattered as it cracked, lungs unable to grab enough air.

"Hey…", Jason held his hand out in warning, "I’m going to come closer now, alright? Just…trust me okay?", he found himself showing more caution and compassion than he normally would, but he pressed on.

Another attempt at a scream, this one weaker. As Jason approached, he found himself able to assess the trembling body.  
A quick, closer, glance, allowed him to see he was in the presence of another boy, but just that, a boy, not a man. Arkham didn’t have a children's ward, so why was there this naked boy screaming in the pouring rain.  
"Hey kid,", he walked slowly now, "I gotta get you home, but you got to stop screaming alright?"

Jason took a final step, his foot splashing the puddle in front of him. That seemed to set the boy off. Too close too fast.  
He whipped around, his jet black hair soaked from the rain. But his face…  
Jason staggered backwards, tears streaming from the boys eyes, fear sketched on his face…that face…Damian’s face.  
No.  
Jason shook his head. Impossible. It was impossible. Damian had died. Damian was dead. Yet here he was. Naked, wet, crying, screaming.  
A memory flashed itself in front of Jason. For a second, he wasn’t looking at Damian, he was looking at himself, his fourteen year old self shaking and trembling fresh from the…no.  
There wasn’t any hesitating. Jason nearly lunged at Damian, grabbing his chin. Damian thrashed and screamed, but Jason held on, turning his head to the near lamp post.  
There it was…a tiny ring of gold around the ice blue that so hauntingly mimicked Bruce.  
The Lazarus Pit.  
Jason’s stomach began to churn, Damian’s pained screaming fading out as it settled. He’d been in the Lazarus Pit. Was that what Bruce had left to do? Throw Damian’s body in that wretched hell? No…Bruce wouldn’t do that. Not after everything Jason himself had been through.

He didn’t get time to pursue the thought as another piercing scream from Damian ripped him through his thoughts.  
The former Robin wretched himself away from Jason and backed up into a puddle. He was already soaked to the bone, if he were to be out in the rain he’d surely catch pneumonia, if he hadn’t already.  
Almost in a panic, Jason ripped off his coat and scooped Damian’s body from the puddle, wrapping him and closely holding him to his chest. Damian continued to thrash and scream, but Jason held on tight as he made his way back into the shadows.  
What was he going to do? Call Dick? Tell Bruce? No..he couldn’t do that. He was the only one who knew how to deal with this kind of situation. Well, him and Talia but that wasn’t an option. Or was she in the pit too?  
No. He had to get back to his place. He had to get Damian warm. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen, but the tables had turned and Damian was his priority, his to protect.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason's put in a tight situation, and has to quickly look over his options.

Getting back to his base was no easy task for Jason, with Damian in a fit the whole time. Where he found Damian was a good mile into the city, and the nearest base was a healthy three blocks away. It wouldn't have been that bad, if he didn't have a screaming eleven year old in his arms. He tried to keep to the alleys and rooftops with him, but people started to take notice and that wouldn't do if he had the GCPD on his ass. No, he had to keep this on the down-low until he could figure out what to do with Damian.  
So, he did what he had to.  
He thought about stuffing his mouth with the arm of his jacket, but he was afraid that if he set him down he'd bolt. 

He remembered vaguely how he felt coming out of the pit, alot of it was a legitimate blur, but he could remember feeling his bones snap, his body re-forming itself as his mind scrambled to put two and two together. Damian had been dead longer than Jason, so the after effects were worse, but now...he had nightmares about the now.  
His body in silent tremors, his mind racing through thoughts and memories he'd never had, sounds sharper, colors violently vivid. It was horror..days blurred into weeks, hours felt like years, and just a gentle breeze felt like razorblades.  
The thought of everything, the memories of everything snapped him back to Damian. He wouldn't wish what he had gone through on anyone. So, he did what he though anyone would have done. He knocked him out. He panicked slightly at how limp he got, almost afraid he'd melt away with the rain, maybe then he'd wake up from this nightmare. But no. His small head rest carefully against Jason's wet chest, his chest rising and falling with urgency.  
Collecting himself briefly, Jason continued on a straight run to his apartment.  
It took him almost no time to make his way up the stairs and kick in the unlocked door. He set Damian down on the couch and jogged over to the bathroom to get dry towels. Well, a dry towel...well..a damp towel after his shower this morning, but it was all he had. Worried it wasn't enough, he ran over to his bedroom and ripped the sheets off his mattress, cocooning Damian in blankets.  
Finally satisfied, Jason collapsed onto a questionable looking chair, his eyes locked onto Damian. 

What the hell was going on. What the hell was he going to do? There were waves of emotion rippling through Jason that he'd never experienced before. Concerns, thoughts, feelings. Sure, he was destroyed when Damian died, everyone was. Sure, the kid was a brat, but death was nothing he'd wish upon him. He skipped the funeral and got drunk, and had barely spoken to anyone since. Not that he was sure any of them knew he was gone. But he'd done what he always did, and stepped off. 

Bruce had apparently taken off to pursue business, but now this? Did Bruce know? What about Dick or Tim? Would they even tell him about it? He needed to really think about this. The effects of the Lazarus Pit were nothing to be messed with. He'd been through it, so he vaguely knew what Damian was going through, and what he would have to go through. If he sent him back to the Manor they wouldn't have an idea what they were doing..No, it wasn't an option. Damian had to stay here, he was going to stay and Jason was going to help him get through this. 

Side effects of the Lazarus Pit included increase of strength and temporary insanity. He couldn't clearly remember how got through it all, but he knew Talia was there, ironically. It took him a few years to get his shit together, and he had to train all over again, regain his bearings, and if Damian's stubbornness meant anything, this wasn't going to be easy. 

Jason reached over to the table in front of him, grabbing his pack of cigarettes.  
Unlike the struggle in the rain, it took him seconds to light it. He took a deep haul and watched Damian sleep. It wasn't a sight he was used to, the tiny demon looking peaceful, not a scowl on his lips, his eyes resting, his mind wandering through whatever dreams they thought important. It was almost like looking at different person, a different child, and just the fact that Jason now knew that there was no reversing Damian being in the Lazarus Pit, that he would have to go through hell and back just to face some sort of normalcy again caused his heart to clench. What the hell was happening. Was he going soft?  
Jason scoffed and got up, clomping his way to the kitchen.  
His gloved hands shook slightly as he reached into his questionable fridge for a beer. He hadn't even taken the time to un-mask. He figured Damian would sleep for a few hours at the very least, if the nightmares didn't wake him up.  
Jason reached to the back of his neck, and pulled at the back of his helmet, allowing it to free his head. He took a deep breath of the stale air around him, before tearing off his domino mask. His body screamed for a shower, but he couldn't be sure Damian wouldn't wake up and run off. No, he would have to stay awake for the next god knew how long. Exhaling a puff of nicotine, he took a long swig of his beer. 

"What the hell have you gotten yourself into,", he wondered out loud. 

The next few hours allowed Jason to plow through twelve beers and fight with his inner thoughts. He never thought in all of his years that he'd fight so hard with himself over keeping the kid safe. To be fair, he never thought he'd die either. He finally allowed himself to conclude with his original decision. He was going to take Damian under his wing, so to speak, he wasn't going to allow Damian to go through what he did. 

If they had to leave Gotham then so be it.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get complicated as Jason tries to figure out just how bad off Damian is ; And things get complicated when Dick decides to check in.

A scream ripped through the dark, causing Jason to wake from his unexpected slumber. The awkward position he was sprawled in wasn't enough to support his alarm and he hit the ground in a panic.  
Another scream severed the silence. His eyes darted to the couch where Damian should have been laying. In the dark he couldn't see how far he'd gotten, but judging from the screams it wasn't far. He quickly got onto his feet and made a sweep of the apartment. It took all of one second of looking over the couch to find him. The kicked in door seemed to show some sort of exit for the boy, and he'd tried to run off, thankfully Jason's blanket nest managed to tangle him, preventing him from leaving.  
Making a mental note, Jason walked around the couch, and crouched next to the boy. His shallow screams now were different, tears streamed from his fear stricken eyes, his body struggling with the blankets.  
This was ridiculous. Damian Wayne. Son of the Bat. Screaming and crying over his feet trapped under blankets. Obviously there was more to it, but just the sight was baffling. Absolutely baffling.  
Jason took a deep breath and sat properly on the floor. 

"Damian?", the name felt like sand on his tongue, "Damian can you look at me?"

If Damian could hear him, he was ignoring him. He began to claw at the dingy hardwood floors, ignoring the blanket binding his feet together.  
Due to what his mind was going through, he most likely wouldn't be able to connect with what was going on around him for the next days to weeks.  
He rememberd slightly, when he was living with Talia, she would hold him until his fits subsided, cooing sweet nothings to him as he sleep took over. Well, he'd be damned if he sang sweet nothings to the kid, but he didn't think holding him would be so bad.  
Carefully, he wormed his arms around Damian's middle, and although he screamed and pushed Jason away, he managed to get him close. His arms almost covered Damian completely once he had him close. He'd never realized just how small he was.  
Throwing his weight to his left, Jason began to rock side to side. He couldn't remember the last time he held someone close on purpose.  
Damian's screams began to fade, and soon he was just crying. Jason couldn't bring himself to look at him so he watched the wall, his body still rocking. The cries tugged at Jason's heart strings, a constant reminder at just how vulnerable Damian was, just how scared he was, just like Jason was all those years ago.  
It was a place in his mind he'd promised himself he'd never go back to, regardless of the circumstances, and now here he was. It had been less than a day with Damian coming back, and Jason found himself revisiting memory after memory to try and help Damian. What the hell had become of Jason Todd?

He woke up, what he presumed to be, hours later with the afternoon sun blinding him. Damian lay sleeping in his arms, his eyes red and puffy. He didn't want to move him, but his arms were stinging from lack of blood circulation, and his bladder throbbed. He couldn't remember falling asleep, he'd have to keep a better eye on that.  
Sliding his legs out in front of him, he managed to get up on his knees and from there onto his feet. He had to move quickly and set Damian down on the couch, lest his sleeping arms give out. Jason was able to get to the bathroom and relieve himself before his jeans began to buzz. Thankfully he kept his phone on vibrate, allowing Damian to sleep.  
Jason didn't look at the number before he placed the phone to his ear, an action he'd kick himself for later. 

"I've been calling you for weeks, and now you answer?", Dick's voice was almost sing song. 

"What do you want, Dick?", Jason spat out the name with more hostility than he probably should have given him. 

He hadn't exactly been avoiding everyone, but he hadn't been answering their calls either. Tim called once a day for the first two weeks, and then nothing. But Dick was terribly persistent. He called sometimes three times a day, and had taken to showing up every now and then unannounced.  
That, thankfully died out fast. 

"I haven't seen you in weeks, nobody has...", he took a breath, "I won't ask you to come home, but have lunch with me. Come out on patrol."

"Dick, I--"

"I know,", he continued, "I know we asked you to spread out, but just one night Jason."

If he had anything to say about it, if anyone had anything to say about it, Dick missed Damian the most. He was closer to Damian than Bruce could ever hope to be, and on that day Dick not only lost a brother, he lost a son. 

"I can't, Dickie-Bird,", Jason sighed, his eyes glued to Damian. He prayed he wouldn't wake up until he was off the phone, or at least sleep enough to let him have shower. Letting Dick know Damian was alive, let alone in his apartment, wasn't an option.

"Why not?", Dick pushed, "I'll pay for lunch, and you don't have to patrol with me if you don't want to. Tim's gone and I don't know where Bruce is and I can't do this alone Jay."  
"Listen, Dick, I can't.", he kept his voice hushed and turned away from Damian, "I would, I really would, but I'm going through somethings, and I just can't alright?"

"Jay-Jay, we're family. We're all we have left. If you're going through something let me help you."

"Not this time, Dickie,", he smiled sadly, and although he couldn't see it, he knew Dick could feel it. 

"What if I come over then? Just for a few hours, just for an hour even. I'll bring Chinese, and we'll talk?"

He wasn't going to give up. He was going to push and push, and he would have given in. Easily. But not this time. He couldn't. He had to be sure Damian was going to be okay before Bruce and the rest of them found out. Sure, they'd probably hate him for keeping Damian from him, but Damian was going through something only he understood, and he was the only one who could make sure he'd be okay. 

"Another time, big D."

Dick was silent before letting out an exaggerated sigh, "Okay...", another pause, "I just wish you'd talk to me, Jay."

Damnit.  
Jason growled, running his fingers through his greasy hair. 

"D, if I could talk to you I would, but I can't alright? So drop it."

"Jason, are you in trouble?", Dick's voice was stern now, concerned.  
The death of Damian was a blow nobody was sure Dick could take, if Bruce or Tim or anyone else really were to die Dick surely wouldn't recover. He jumped to the worst possible conclusion with almost every scenario now. 

"Damnit, Dick!", he didn't mean to yell, "I'm not in trouble, I don't want to get lunch, I don't want to patrol, I don't want you to come over, I need you to back off."

Everything came out sounding much more harsh that he intended it to be, but he needed to make sure this went off without a hitch. If Bruce or anyone else caught wind, they'd take Damian back, and it would all snowball downhill from there.

"Yeah,", Dick cleared his throat, "Yeah alright, sure. Sorry, I didn't mean to push."  
"No, Dick--", now he felt like an ass, but now was not the time to try and fix it. He turned around and found Damian not where he was supposed to be. He could hear Dick talking in his ear, but panic set in when he noticed the front door still hadn't been fixed. With the phone absently drifting from his ear, Jason did a quick sweep of the tiny apartment. He wasn't anywhere. He'd taken off. In the day time. Panic gripped his chest.

"Jason? Are you there? What's wrong?", were all the words Jason managed to hear before he blatantly hung up. There was no time. He couldn't have been gone long.  
He didn't grab his jacket of shoes as he barreled out the door and down the hall. His apartment was on the third floor, so he didn't make it down to the street in the amount of time he'd have liked.  
He grabbed the side of his head in absolute frustration before he decided to run to his left. Thankfully, he didn't live in one of Gotham's more prosperous area's, so foot traffic wasn't heavy.  
He kept on the sidewalk, running a full block, until he wound back at his apartment. 

"Damian!!", Jason called out. The chances of him answering were almost nil but he had to try. Luckily for him, a small whimper met his call. He whipped around, following the sound, and to his relief, he found Damian sitting inside the apartment hallway, his bare bottom on the stair.  
Relief flooded him. 

"Jesus Christ, Demon,", he hadn't used the nick name in a long time, "You know how to scare a guy.". Everything in him wanted to yell, would have screamed, but he couldn't. The sounds would set him in a panic, and he didn't need him having another screaming fit.  
He wasn't crying anymore, but his blue eyes were glassed over, his mind alarmingly elsewhere. Without another word, he managed to pick Damian up and carry him back into the apartment. He set him back onto the couch, and he didn't move a muscle as Jason managed to screw the door back into place. He spoke to Damian the whole while, he knew he wouldn't answer back, but he thought he might enjoy it. 

He stood in the hallway and swung the newly hinged door, slightly proud of himself. He closed the door gently, and stood back to get a better look, lest it be crooked.  
He was taken aback when he shuffled backwards, and hit someone passing.

"I didn't take you for some handy man.", Dick's laugh was like barbed wire twisting itself around Jason's eardrums. "I'm sorry," he started as Jason turned to reluctantly face him, "I know I shouldn't have come but it sounded like something was wrong on the phone."  
He scrambled through his brain, hunting for something to say to get Dick to leave. Damian was on the other side of the door. If he started crying or went into another fit, Dick would know.  
He parted his chapped lips to speak, but was cut off but a loud crash and glass shattering from inside the apartment. Dick looked past him, his eyes although fighting exhaustion, quick and alert.

"What the hell was that?", he asked, his eyes scanning the door as if it was the intruder. 

"It's my cat.", Jason scrambled, "I got a cat. It probably knocked over something."

"Oh...", Dick wasn't buying it, "Well..do you wanna check it out? I could use some lunch anyways"

"No.", his answer was rushed, "Uh...Chinese right? You wanted Chinese? Let's just go from here. 

Not giving Dick time to protest, he reached into his pocket, pulled out his keys and locked the door. The window in the apartment was locked, so the only harm that could be done was from inside. His mind raced to find what had fallen, was Damian okay? Everything in him screamed to run inside, but he couldn't risk it.  
He would just have to rush lunch and pray Damian was okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got alot more writing in this chapter!  
> I hope you are enjyoing this. Feedback is welcomed :)


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lunch with Dick doesn't go as planned and things just go from bad to worse.

Lunch couldn't have taken longer.  
Dick brought them to a sit down Chinese buffet a few blocks away, all Dick's treat of course. He talked and talked and ate and talked, all the while Jason picked at his food, his mind scrambling, running through a million scenarios where Damian was missing or hurt or...well he didn't allow himself to think too far ahead. During some of Dick's rambling he genuinely tried to listen, get his mind off of Damian but it didn't work. Everything Dick said somehow brought him back to his thoughts of Damian. He hadn't fed him, he probably needed a shower and clothes. Jason's eyes widened incredulously, he'd had Damian for almost two days, and the only thing he had him in was a sheet. He didn't know what size Damian was, and he didn't really like the idea of going shopping. He looked down at his plate, his mind buzzing. 

"Do you still have some of Damian's clothes?", the words were out before he could filter them. He tensed up, his head shot up to look at Dick. 

His face was an amalgamation of emotions. But pain showed the most. He tried to keep his eyes from watering and he set down his chopsticks. Jason knew he did. Damian's room was untouched. Alfred wasn't even allowed to clean it. But he knew he shouldn't have asked. Damian was a severe touchy subject. Dick didn't want him to have died completely, so he brought him up every now and then, but it was sure to attract silence. 

"Uhm.", Dick cleared his throat, "Yeah, I still have some of his stuff. Why?", his voice was wavering but his hands were steady.  
"Shit, D, I'm really sorry,", Jason offered weakly, "It's just...there's this kid in my building and he could use some clothes and uh..you know what, never mind,". This was a fucked up lie on top of a fucked up question. 

"No it's fine,", Dick smiled now, "Uhm..I have some shirts...they're just sitting in the closet, I don't think Damian would have minded..I'll swing by later in the week."

Now he felt like shit. Of course the clothes were for Damian, he hoped that maybe the clothes would be a reminder, an anchor like, to at the very least calm him down. But now he obviously upset Dick, and that was something he never really liked doing. But on the sick upside, he was going to get Damian some actual clothes.  
The rest of their lunch went on, awkward air between them. He didn't get to finish eating, his appetite leaving him, but he got it to go so maybe Damian would try to eat.  
Dick offered to walk him home, but Jason declined. They left the restaurant with a gawky half hug.  
When Jason was sure that Dick was properly gone around the corner, he clenched his takeout bag tightly and broke out into a run. It took them twenty minutes to walk, but it only took Jason five minutes to run. He ran through the red lights, sliding across the hoods of passing cars, until he was back in his building, skipping every second stair to get to the top.  
His first instinct was to kick down the door but a quick thought prevented him, and he rummaged through his jeans to find the keys.  
When he threw the door open, his immediate thought was to locate Damian. The problem was, he expected his apartment to be in the same state he left it.  
Almost everything that could be flipped over was. The television was broken, random pieces of glass were scattered across the floor. The tap in the bathroom was left on, water pouring over the edges of the sink. Old food containers left in the fridge now scattered the kitchen floor, causing a questionable stench to waft through the warm room. 

"Damian?", he called out, closing the door behind him. He stepped over the knocked over side table in his path, "Damian where are you?"

He had to talk himself out of ripping through the place. He didn't want to scare Damian off. He'd already obviously had a violent fit, he didn't need to be making it worse by flipping through everything.  
Jason scanned through the living room, the bathroom, the hallway closet and the kitchen. He wasn't in the house. He headed back into the living room to check the side window to the balcony. He was sure he'd locked it, but it didn't matter once he realized it was broken. The ladder to the stairs was up, and they were on the third floor. He dreaded to think how Damian got down, or if he managed to get down. He popped his head out of the window, and to his instant relief, he found Damian sitting with his knees to his chest, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. 

"Jesus, Little D, you gave me a scare.", he rested his elbows on the balcony, his eyes on Damian.  
He was looking far off, his skin incredibly pale almost grey. Small cuts lined the inside of his arms and at first he thought it might have been the glass earlier shattered, but a closer look told Jason that the damage had been caused by Damian himself. Whatever fit he was having before seemed to have passed now. "I brought back some lunch, why don't you come and eat?", he asked, making a mental note to both clean the cuts and cut Damian's nails.  
Damian didn't say anything, but he stood up and crawled back though the window. Jason managed to get him to the kitchen table, once he picked it back up, and unpacked the leftover food. 

"I don't know what you like, but I just really hope you're not allergic to anything. There's chicken fried rice, dry garlic spareribs, uhm I think that's chow mein and this is breaded shrimp. It's not very hot and I apparently no longer own a microwave,", he looked over his shoulder disdainfully at the broken microwave, "but it's warm and it's food so uhm..", he stepped back and reached for a fork on the counter. "here.", he handed him the utensil, "eat up."

Damian took the fork slowly and eyed it. He made no expression, his eyes were still glossed over with his inner thoughts, but he looked down at the food as if deciding what to do with it. He didn't look to Jason for help, and instead of pushing himself into the situation he chose to relocate. 

"Alright,", he said backing away, "I'm actually going to find you something other than that sheet to wear and then I guess I'll start cleaning."  
He wasn't expecting an answer, but lingered just in case. He offered a smile instead and retreated to his bedroom. Unlike the rest of the apartment his room was untouched. It was odd considering he'd left the door open, but everything was just where he left it. He made a mental note to look into that after. For now he made his way over to his dresser and shuffled through the drawers briefly before pulling out a moth eaten AC/DC t-shirt. It was big, but it would do. He moved to the drawer above and pulled out a pair of boxers, and grabbed a stranded elastic from ontop of the dresser. It wasn't fancy, but it would do.  
He tucked the small bundle under his arms and made his way back into the kitchen. Damian hadn't moved. The fork he had set down remained where it was and if he hadn't taken a closer look, he'd have thought the food untouched. But in the tiny bucket of shrimp a few were missing. Jason almost got excited that he was eating, but the chunky pile of vomit on the floor stated otherwise. His face fell and he let out a slow sigh.  
His body wasn't regenerating properly, if he wasn't keeping down food. By all accounts he should be starving. He didn't know where Damian came back from, or how long it took him to get back to Gotham, but he needed to get him a full evaluation from a doctor but that was impossible. Anybody he went to would surely go to Bruce and he didn't even want to imagine how that would go.

"Okay, so lunch isn't an option right now. We'll try again later.", he placed the pile of clothes onto the table and pulled out Damian's chair, "Let's get you dressed."

He picked him up and set him down on his feet. Jason pulled the sheet away gently, and dressed Damian in the over sized t-shirt. Damian wordlessly stepped into the boxers and stood still as Jason tied off the excess material with the elastic. 

"There,", he stood back, "It's not the best but it will do for now.", he ran his fingers through Damian's greasy hair with a sad smile. "We'll get you flying again, little D." 

He thought Damian might smile, but he didn't get the opportunity to see it go through as his pants began to vibrate against his leg. With a curse under his breath, he stood up and pulled the phone out of his pocket. He read Dick's name across the small screen. Jason walked into his bedroom, and closed the door behind him. He wasn't sure if Damian hearing Dick would go over well. He'd have him swallow that pill slowly. 

"Dick, we literally just saw each other not even forty minutes ago,"

"Jason,", his voice was rushed, was he crying? "Jason, Damian's alive!"


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things rapidly escalate, and Jason has to think quick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry this took so long, and it's pretty short. I'll have another update soon, keep reading!

_"Jason, Damian's alive!"_

His mind screamed, his heart pounding dangerously against his chest. He grabbed Damian by the hand and made his way over to the window. He took a quick glance back and forth before pulling down the curtains. 

He'd made his absolute best effort to make sure Damian was hidden. Did someone see them when Damian took off? Had someone seen them the night he found him.  
Keep calm Jason, he told himself. 

"What do you mean Damian's alive?", he tried to keep his voice calm. 

_"I don't know. I mean not really. I just...Bruce came back and all he said is Damian's alive. He's looking for him now, well we are, you need to come home, Jay."_ , his words were quick and breathy.

So Bruce was back. This was just what he didn't need. There wasn't enough time. He pulled Damain close to his chest and sat down on the couch. 

_"Jason are you there?"_ , Dick's voice rang sharply, _"Jason you have to come home. Tim's coming too."_

"No. No I can't come right now."

 _"Jason."_ , Dick almost snapped, _"Damian's alive. God only knows how or why or what state he's in. He needs us, Jason."_

He needed to think quick. He had to go. It wasn't ideal in the least, but he had to. If he didn't it would be suspicious. Even for Jason.  
"Yeah, sure, yeah. I'll come. I'll be there Dickie."

Damian stiffened in his arms when using Dicks nickname. Like it rang some sort of bells. Jason repositioned his hold around Damian to include his arms. He could feel Damian's chest begin to rise and fall rapidly. Had he remembered Dick? He didn't seem to remember Jason, he hadn't even thought of Dick. They were really close, closer than anyone in the family had been in years, he should have thought of that.

 _"Thank you, Jason."_ , Dicks voice was almost a sigh of relief, _"Do you want me to send Alfie to pick you up?"_

"No,", he blurted, "No it's fine, I'll take my bike."

Damian began heaving dangerously, his body forcing itself against Jason's arms in attempt to break free.

 _"Yeah alright,"_ , Dick continued, _"B called everyone over, so there should be a full house for him...He's back Jay,", he choked, _"Our little D is back."__

"Yeah, he is,", Jason said absently trying to keep Damian still, "Listen I gotta go if I wanna be there in time or whatever, so I'll see you soon okay?" 

He hung up before Dick got the chance to respond. He threw the phone on the cushion beside him and let Damian go. 

The disoriented boy stumbled forward with a groan. He landed on his knees before grabbing the sides of his head and letting out an awful scream. His face turned a dangerous red and his shoulders trembled. 

Jason nearly flew off the couch and scooped Damian in his arms. 

He began to flail and slap at Jason's arms, screams still ripping themselves out from him.  
Jason held Damian close and waited for the fit to pass. 

He was remembering things too fast. His brain and body wasn't ready for it. If Bruce found out where he was then he would take Damian away, lock him up and hook him to machines. He'd never grow or recover that way. It would only make things worse. He couldn't go to the mansion, at this rate Damian would rip out his own hair. He couldn't stay in the apartment, Dick would come looking for him. 

No, he had to run. It was risky, Bruce and Dick knew all of his aliases, so he'd have to get new papers, and even then he'd have to be really careful to not be seen by anyone. He couldn't stay in the country, no that was even riskier.  
Jason wasn't sure where they were going to go just yet, but he had to think fast.  
He began to rock Damian back and forth while his screams subsided to sobs. 


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason reaches out for help.

It didn't take long to get his bags packed, and with Damian having literally nothing to his name all Jason needed was a duffle-bag and a manilla envelope filled with money.

He estimated it would cost him $1,100 for papers for the two of them, passports included. Plane tickets were another issue. He thought about driving but he worried that by the time they arrived to wherever they were going Bruce or Dick would have tracked them down. As it was he couldn't guarantee they wouldn't be found either way, but he'd put up a fight. He wasn't going to let Bruce fail Damian like he'd failed himself all those years ago.

After getting off the phone with Dick, Damian's meltdown lasted an agonizing forty-five minutes before he returned to his coma like state, his eyes red from the giant tears his eyes were far too tired to cry. Jason let him alone on the dodgy carpet while he packed. He had to leave his guns behind to his complete dismay. He threw a few shirts and a pair of jeans into a duffle bag along with the manilla envelope.  
He had $3,000 to get papers, plane tickets and a place for them to stay and eat until he could get himself a steady job.  
He zipped the bag shut and grabbed it off the mattress before hurrying into the living room.

"Alright little guy,", he helped Damian up off the floor, "We've gotta go."

Damian stood blankly while Jason dipped into the hallway and grabbed a pair of shoes. Luckily, the only thing Jason hadn't lied to Dick about was the fact that he had kids living in his building.

"They're not much,", Jason spoke quickly and slipped the raggedy shows on Damian, "But they'll keep your feet from bleeding."

Once the laces were secured around his tiny ankles, Jason grabbed Damian's hand and led him out into the sunny afternoon.  
For the first time since he was a kid he was absolutely paranoid. Every sound made him jump and he was constantly looking over his shoulder just in case. 

It reminded him of his first shoplift. His mother was on another one of her binges and he needed food. He walked a good mile up to a small corner store where he'd never been and he stole a can of soup. It was an absolute wonder he hadn't been caught. He wasn't very sleuth about it and he by all means should have been caught.  
Jason shook the unpleasant memory from his head and looked over his shoulder before ducking into a sketchy Chinese Restaurant.

The smell of overcooked fish made him gag. The filthy tables were empty and dingy lanterns lit the sketchy sitting area.  
Standing behind the counter, a greasy man danced lazily to the radio. Jason approached the counter and cleared his throat loudly, gaining the mans attention.

"Yeah?", the man didn't bother to hide his annoyance, "What you want?"

"I'm here to make an order.", Jason lowered his voice.

The overweight man leaned over the counter, his voice carrying a repulsive garlic stench.

"Yeah?", he looked over to Damian briefly, "What you want?"

"Number seven for two.", Jason moved Damian behind him.

The man pushed himself upright and picked up the telephone receiver beside him and pressed a number. It didn't take long for the other line to pick up and the greasy man repeated Jason's order to the voice over the line. There was a brief silence and the man hung up. 

"Your order is ready.", he nodded to a curtain on the far side of the dining area where are meek light broke through a rusty colored curtain.

Jason pulled Damian along. He'd done this a few times. He didn't like dealing with anyone, and a few times now the big guy at the counter had given him away. He'd have to absolutely make sure that didn't happen this time.  
Jason pulled the curtain aside, revealing a much cleaner part of the restaurant. It looked like two different places. This side was rich in reds and golds, a giant mahogany table sat in the middle of the room, a man dressed in a handsome suit sat behind it, a pipe dangling between his thin lips.

"Ah, long time no see,", the man smiled creepily, wrinkles decorating his face. 

Jason nodded and sat Damian down in a leather upholstered chair in front of the desk.

"You have company this time,", the man noted Damian's presence.

"Yeah,", Jason took the seat next to Damian, "Listen, I need papers for me and him to leave the country this afternoon"

The old man cocked a thin eyebrow, "Ah, a young lover?"

"No, Jesus,", Jason scowled, "He's my brother and he's sick right now. There are people looking for him so we need new papers, and I need people to not ask questions."

"Ah,", the man sighed, a puff of smoke floating thickly from his nostrils, "The notice is too short, but I think I have something."

He pulled out drawer after drawer, and shifted through papers for awhile before setting a pile of papers on the desk.

"You're lucky,", the man winked, "I have papers here. How old is the boy?", he pointed to Damian.

"Nine,", Jason lied. He'd be eleven now, but he couldn't risk similarities.

The old man grabbed a pen and filled out a few papers before nodding to himself, no doubt pleased with his work. He folded the papers neatly and slid them into an envelope. He handed them to Jason.

"Inside are your papers and passports. No pictures yet,", he took a puff from his pipe. "Yao!", he barked. Both Damian and Jason jumped and quickly the fat man from behind the counter poked his head through the rust curtains. The old man yelled something in Chinese and Yao disappeared.

"We're going to dye the little ones hair. It's much too dangerous otherwise. His eyes bear the mark of the Lazarus and we should keep him secret, no?"

Jason was taken aback.  
If this man could see it, who else could? Of course not everyone knew about the Lazarus Pit, but those who did, could they see it? Was it that obvious?

Yao came through the curtain with a bottle and a washbasin.

"Yao will tend to the boy and we'll discuss further, yes?"

"He stays here.", Jason said firmly.

The old man only waved his hand. "Yes yes. Now,", he took a long puff from his pipe, "How will you be traveling?"

"Plane. I need to move fast."

"Of course,", the man smiled, smoke slowly snaking out from between his lips, "You're lucky. I have two tickets, for tonight, nine o'clock."

Jason looked down at his wrist. "It's five thirty. Nine is too late,", he glanced over at Yao who was gently massaging a thick cream into Damian's hair. He'd never seen the kid sit so still before, it was almost eerie.

"Well,", the old man laughed, "That is simply too bad. There is only so much I can do on such short notice."

Jason scowled.

"Don't worry,", the man continued, "You will stay here until then. Nobody will find you here. I like the young one. He's pretty. He'd fetch a lot of money,", the man shrugged, "It is too bad you are not into such things."

It made Jason sick to his stomach to think that people were actually into those kinds of things at all. He didn't respond, but simply watched the dye sink into Damian's hair. It was going to be awful to see Damian without his trademark hair. The man hadn't even mentioned a color, so the entire thing was going to be a shock.

"Now,", the man stole Jason's attention, "Your papers include birth certificates, social numbers, banking information, school transcripts, and Canadian medical insurance."

"Canadian?", Jason almost laughed, "You're sending us to Canada?"

"You come to me with no notice,", the man bridged his spindly fingers together, "You're lucky I have the papers at all. So yes, Canada it is. Saskatchewan, actually."

Jason wracked his brain to find some sort of familiarity in the bizarre name, but nothing. He'd never heard of the place.

"From there,", he continued, "You will be free to go where you please. I have filled out the necessary information but I do not know what names you've been assigned so not even I can locate you."

Relief swarmed Jason. Three times he'd come here and Yao had given him away. Not this time. This time they were safe.

"Also", he continued, "In the envelope you will find a hotel key and address. The owner will ask no questions so feel free to stay as long as you like until you..as they say 'find your bearings',"

"Thank you,", Jason smirked, "You're saving his life."

"Don't thank me yet,", the man pulled out a calculator, "There's prices for these kinds of things."

Jason reached into the duffle bag by his side. The toxic smell of peroxide tugged at his nostrils, but he kept his eyes off Damian, determined to keep it a surprise for himself. It was childish but how many opportunities would he get like this?  
He unzipped the ratty bag, and pulled out the envelope, awaiting the mans price.

"Well,", he started again, "Everything comes to a total of $2,900."

"$2,900?!", Jason shouted, "I only have $3,000, that's everything!"

"What can I say? You come to me last minute, demand papers for out of the country, for you and a child. People just don't let men leave the country with children, and I have to make money as well. So, $2,900 it is, take it or leave it, it's not my life on the line."

"Fuck,", Jason cursed loudly, "You're a fucking thief you know that?"

The man shrugged and collected the money Jason threw in front of him.

"Nothing in life is free."

Jason slammed the drastically thin manilla envelope back into the duffle bag. He tucked the travel papers under a pair of jeans. It wasn't the best place but he was limited on options.

He zipped the bag closed, and sat back in the chair.

Silence didn't have time to set itself between them, as the sound if water splashed against the ground. Damian let out a tiny yelp and Jason jumped to his feet.

"Calm now," the old man laughed, "Yao is simply washing the dye from the boys hair."

Looking at the wet hair clinging to his forehead. Any other day Jason would have laughed. he looked about as miserable as a drowned rat, water dripping from his earlobes. 

And his hair.

Good God his hair. 

Before, where his dark hair sat neatly, now a blonde mop clung to him. Yao had even dyed his eyebrows. He didn't even look the same. His eyes were blue, his skin dark, and the blonde just looked so hauntingly out of place. 

"He's soaking wet.", Jason ruffled Damian's strange hair.

"Not a problem,", the man snapped his fingers. "Yao will get him something to wear and then something to eat before you go. Yao willl drive you to the airport."

"Why are you doing all this?", Jason asked, his eyes closely on the overweight man.

"I like the boy, and I can sympathize with him. You both bear the mark, but his eyes, they scream,", the man noted, "I have known people who come to me, begging for the locations, striving to bring back loved ones,", he sighed and lit a new pipe, "But you and I both know it is a curse."

Jason nodded and quietly accepted the clothes from Yao. He got up from the chair and peeled the wet shirt off Damian before sliding the new one on him. Jason wasn't entirely sure these clothes had ever been worn before. They were folded neatly and stiff from lack of use.

"Did you do this to him?", the man asked.

"No,", Jason said slowly, pulling Damian's scrawny legs through the jeans, "Someone else did this to him. I know what he's going through, so I have to keep him safe."

Satisfied with his job in dressing Damian, Jason sat him back up on the chair. It was eerie how well the clothes fit, but Jason let his attention wander as Yao hobbled in with bowls of food.  
He set the bowls on the desk in front of the three men before silently letting himself out.

"That's a large responsibility,", the man noted, breaking his chopsticks, "The Lazarus is an awful curse, they say men hardly recover and here we have a child. How are you so sure he'll be okay after this?"

Jason looked over to his bowl and found himself unable to locate anything he recognized, "Because I was okay. I was older, yeah, and I was dead for a shorter amount of time, but I have to believe he'll be okay, because if I don't nobody will, and I can't accept that."


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick catches on, and Jason and Damian land in Canada

The four hours that it took for the plane to leave New Jersey and get to Saskatchewan took flew by a lot faster than Jason had expected, and although he silently freaked out the whole time, worrying that Damian would have a fit, he just slept the whole time.

They didn't have to wait for their bags, so Jason headed straight for the nearest taxi. It took the driver 10 minutes to drive them to the nearest motel, which honestly looked like a White Castle. He only had American Money, but seeing they were from out of the country he didn't charge him.

There was almost nothing around them, just a little donut place in the parking lot, a truck stop across the street from that, and two gas stations across the street from the Motel. It was good, quaint, and they wouldn't draw any attention to themselves, he made a mental note to try for a job with one of the gas stations. Yes, until they could get on their feet, this would be perfect. 

Once he had sorted everything out with the desk clerk, who was completely cooing over Damian, they headed up to their room. It made him smile sadly, the way Damian did nothing. Before the Lazarus Pit, Damian would have threatened to break her hand, but now he just stood there, he didn't do a damn thing, and for a second Jason wasn't sure how he felt. 

Him and Damian never really got along, but as the hours went by, watching Damian, worrying about him, holding his hand to keep him close, he felt a sort of...parental possession over him. At the beginning he felt guilty about hiding Damian from Dick, but as his thoughts passed him by, he reminded himself that Dick was just Bruce's lackey, and while Dick wouldn't let harm come to Damian, Jason wasn't convinced he'd do the right thing to keep him safe, to have him grow and flourish properly. Damian needed guidance, and a proper good role model, and Jason was going to be that. He had to be.

__________________________________________________________________________________

_"Is...is it on?...yeah this is Jason...are you sure this is on?...Uhh...leave a message." ___

__Jason's familiar message buzzed in Dick's ear for the ninth time that evening. The last he heard from him, he'd promised he'd be home to help them all find Damian. But that was almost 10 hours ago._ _

__Tim was already here, and half the Justice League had come and gone with their instructions from Batman, Steph and Cass were already out too._ _

__"I told you he wouldn't show up,", Tim walked out onto the porch where Dick stood like a longing wife awaiting her soldier husband._ _

__"I don't get it,", Dick tucked his phone back into his jeans, "Him and Damian weren't that bad off..and he seemed a little weird the last time I saw him, I just assumed he was in the middle of something...but now he's not here. What if something bad happened to him?"_ _

__Tim placed a hand on Dick's shoulder, "I'm sure he's fine, he can take care of himself."_ _

__"And what if he can't?", Dick bit his lip, "I can't lose him too, I won't."_ _

__"Calm down,", Tim cooed, "It'll be fine. If you're really worried, while we're out looking for Damian, we'll stop by Jason's, see if we can find anything."_ _

__"Yeah.", Dick nodded, "Yeah I'll go get changed, and we'll take the bikes."_ _

__Tim nodded, and Dick departed for the Batcave where one of his spare suits lay tucked away._ _

__He dressed quickly and told himself over and over again that both Damian and Jason were fine. Although Bruce had warned them all that Damian had been in the Lazarus Pit and he wasn't in his right mind.  
Nobody had seen Jason after he got out of the Pit, but rumor was he was somebody to fear. It broke Dick's heart to even think of Damian in that kind of state. It'd been better, Dick thought to himself, Jason was the only one who knew what Damian was going through. He could have helped._ _

__Dick almost tripped over his feet and stopped midway down the hallway._ _

__It all made sense. Jason being sketchy, asking for Damian's clothes, the cat he apparently had, and now he was gone? He had Damian. No. That was too quick a conclusion to jump to. He would have to investigate carefully. Dick let out a hysterical yelp before breaking into a sprint back to the front porch where Tim waited for him._ _

__"Hey,", he smiled half assedly, "Uhm, Jason just called, so it's fine, he's not coming."_ _

__Tim shrugged, "I could have told you that. So do you wanna patrol, or should I go meet up with Cass?"_ _

__"Go with Cass,", he almost blurted, "I have some stuff to take care of,"_ _

__Tim shrugged, and Dick barreled back down the hall._ _


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick makes his move, and Jason makes progress.

It didn't take Dick long to make it to Jason's apartment. He didn't expect to find him there, and as he broke down the door his thoughts were easily confirmed. The place was disaster; old dishes sat on the round kitchen table, and unwashed pots filled the sink. The microwave and television had been knocked over, and everything that wasn't nailed down was uprooted. 

As he passed through the threshold, his eyes landed on the nearby couch. A pillow lay against the arm, and blankets were sloppily thrown together. Before coming to the conclusion that obviously lay in front of him, he made his way into Jason's room. The bed appeared fine, and recently slept in. The bottom drawer of his nightstand was left open, and his closet had been rummaged through. 

Dick walked back out to the couch, and lay down. 

This is where Damian last was. It was obvious now. Jason wouldn't let him into the apartment, he was in a constant rush, and now the little bed on the couch. 

The only thing he had to do now was track them down, which wouldn't be easy without Batman's help. If Jason didn't want to be found, chances are he wasn't going to be found. What Dick couldn't figure out was why did Jason leave with Damian. Why didn't he say anything? He didn't expect him to come running to Bruce or Tim, but he could have said something, should have said something, but instead he didn't. He took Damian and ran. Dick laughed to himself, maybe it wasn't Damian at all, maybe it was someone else. No, he sighed and sat up, he couldn't start making excuses. Everything was laid out right in front of him. The timing, Jason's attitude, it all made sense. It was the only explanation. 

Now, the only thing Dick had to do was find Jason before anyone else did. If Tim or anyone else found out, they'd go straight to Bruce, and that wouldn't be good for anyone. Bruce and Jason were just starting to smooth the creases in their relationship, this would destroy everything. 

"Think Dick, think,", he spoke aloud. 

He had to figure out now where Jason would have gone. He got up off the couch and rummaged through the apartment, but after a quick fifteen minutes he found nothing. He stopped for a quick minute and ran through his thoughts. 

"He wouldn't have just left..he'd need new papers for him and Damian, maybe a passport?", he thought again. 

There was only a handful of people who did things like that without questions for a good price in Gotham, and Dick knew them all. Now it was just about crossing them off his list.  
He placed his hand on Damian's cold pillow, and couldn't help but smile. 

"I don't know why you're doing this, Jay...but he's alive..Just keep him safe, okay?"

\------

Screams ripped through the roomy hotel room. Damian sat on the floor, his face red with rage as he grabbed what he could and threw it at Jason who ducked from behind the bed. 

He thought everything was going fine. They checked into the hotel and they were escorted to their room. Jason settled them in, grabbed a pamphlet and ordered them supper from a nearby restaurant with just about the last of Jason's money. Damian was quiet the whole time, and didn't make a noise as he lay in his assigned bed. The delivery man came and went, and Jason set their meals in front of them. It wasn't until he tried to get Damian to eat that he started his tantrum. He set the styrofoam dish in front of the boy but Damian didn't move. He tried to talk him into eating, but no response came from him. He picked up the plastic fork and tried the old airplane trick, and Damian lost it. He flipped the dish over and started throwing what he could at Jason. 

He dodged what he could, and waited for Damian to calm down, but after 30 minutes and a knock on the door from management to calm down, it was obvious to him that he'd had to take matters into his own hands. 

"Damian,", he yelled, "You need to eat something! It's been four days, and if you don't eat really bad shit is going to happen."

If it hadn't already.

The shirt that should have fit Damian perfectly floated on him. His skin was grey almost, his cheeks had sunken in, his shoulder blades were extremely visible, and his pants had to be tied with an elastic just to keep them to his waist. That on top of the blonde hair, Jason wasn't worried about being caught because he didn't even look like the same kid. 

But things weren't looking up for them. It looked like it would be awhile yet before Damian got a grip on himself, and he wouldn't eat without freaking out. He needed Damian to stop screaming, and it looked like his only option was to hold him down and force him to eat. 

Jason peered over the mattress, where Damian had stopped throwing things, and just held his head in his hands, muttering incoherently. This was good, his was speaking. It wasn't English, Jason guessed it was Arabic, although they both spoke several languages, Jason's Arabic was terribly rusty. But, he thought, if he could figure out what Damian was saying, he could try and talk back to him, reinforcing some sort of comfort between them. It was completely plausible that Damian couldn't remember how to speak English. He spoke English when with Talia and Ra's but that was when any one of the Batfamily was present, he could have absolutely been raised in Arabic. 

He watched Damian closely, and listened carefully. His sentences were broken, and very little of what he was saying made sense, but Jason was able to catch some of it. 

"Let me stay...colors...lost...staying still.."

Jason crawled ontop of the bed, and scrambled for words, "Damian, can you look at me

The boy stopped rocking but continued to mutter as he looked up at Jason. Good, Jason couldn't help but smile, I have his attention. 

"You're okay, Damian, do you understand that? Do you understand that you're okay?"

Tears welled up in his eyes and he shook his head, "What am I?"

Spanish? Jason was baffled, he's speaking Spanish now? It clicked. His languages were mixed. Jason could briefly remember the same thing happening to him. After the Lazarus Pit, it jumbled everything together.

"You're Damian,", Jason reassured, "You're Damian Wayne,"

Light sobs trickled from his throat, and tears slipped from his eyes. He wiped them away quickly and let his hands fall to his sides. His muttering stopped, and his eyes glazed over as he retreated back into his mind. Jason waited for something else, but nothing happened, Damian just sat there. 

Jason reached over to his styrofoam container that had avoided damage, and walked over to Damian with it. He lay it down on the floor in front of him, and waited for another burst of anger, but instead Damian grabbed a peice of chicken and began to slowly eat from it. 

A wave of relief washed over Jason. This was good. There was a break of lucidity, and he was eating. It wasn't going to be easy, he'd most likely throw up the next several meals before his body accepted the nutrients, but this was good. This was a great step in the direction they needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that when Jason and Damian are interacting, they are NOT speaking English. They speak Arabic and Spanish.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason gets his priorities straight / Dick is hot on the trail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ATTENTION: So as I'm sure you've noted, there are missing chapters. Wanting to take back up my stories I've abandoned, I didn't like the way this was going, so I've cut out a chunk, addressed some earlier plot issues and will be breathing a new life into it! So I hope you'll stick with me as I fix this. Thank you for your support!

It had been three days since Damian's outburst of muffled clarity. Unfortunately it had also been the last time he'd eaten. He'd eaten about half the piece of chicken and then thrown up for almost an hour immediately after. He cried the whole time, and when he was done he was back to his disconnected state.

Jason tried to get him to talk again. He'd tried speaking English, Arabic, Spanish, Russian, almost every language he could remember Bruce teaching him to try and catch whatever language he might have been thinking in. While he was cycling through his languages, he was trying some Mandarin and thought he'd gotten it when Damian's eyebrows rose, but all he did was sneeze. He'd given up trying for the meantime, but he still spoke to him, mostly to try and get Damian to talk, but he secretly was enjoying spending time with Damian. He almost felt horrible about it. Damian was currently going through one of the worst things imaginable, but for the first time in his entire life Jason felt truly connected to somebody as horrible as it was.

He put on a strong mask, but there was nobody who ever understood him properly and it was the shittest feeling in the world. The only one who he'd thought understood him was Talia and that had gone so well. For the first time in a long time this wasn't about Bruce, it wasn't about Jason fucking up and being a disappointment to everyone around him, it was about him and Damian and maybe, just maybe them both getting the closure they desperately needed.

But right now, he needed to put everything aside and focus long term. They'd been in the hotel for almost a week now, and their checkout date was quickly approaching and Jason still had no job. The old man who had helped him get here said that they could stay as long as they liked, but with Dick and Bruce rummaging through unknown resources the last thing he wanted to do was stay in a franchised place too long and bring him right to them. He knew he could get them settled in to this little town and get a proper place for him and Damian, but just the thought of leaving Damian out of his sight made him nervous. But it couldn't be helped.

After an hour or so of lounging around the room, Damian had fallen asleep, and Jason took the time to rummage through their new birth certificates. He pulled out his own first, sliding the new papers out from their manila home.  
His eyes searched the top of the paper until he found the information he was looking for.

Name : Dylan Christopher Weeks

Birthdate : July 14th, 1991

Sex : Male

Birth Place : Saskatchewan

The rest of the sheet contained information that wasn't important to him, but needed for the certificate. This was it. He was an official Canadian citizen. Dylan wasn't too bad a name, but it would take getting used to. He pulled the little blue paper that had been stapled to the sheet off, and tucked it in his wallet. Jason slipped the paper back in the envelope and pulled out Damian's.

Name : Mason Anthony Weeks

Birthdate : November 16th, 2005

Sex : Male

Birthplace : Saskatchewan

So, they hadn't been completely screwed out of names, that was good. Now he just had to get Damian responding to the new name. He never replied to his actual name, and if last outburst he had was any indication of anything, Damian wasn't even sure who he was.  
Jason's original idea was to remind Damian of who he was, Robin, son of Bruce Wayne, raised by assassins.

But what if that was too much? Would it be so bad if they didn't go back to that? Would it be so horrible if they left that life behind? Jason glanced over at the sleeping Damian. Aside from his shocking blonde hair, he looked peaceful, like nothing had ever happened. He worried that if he tried to remind Damian of everything it would ruin everything. He recalled remembering everything he'd gone through once he was recovering from the Lazarus Pit, and it was hell all over again. He couldn't do that to Damian.

No, this was their new life, and he wasn't going to go back.

Like he'd done with his own, he ripped off the little blue wallet certificate and tucked it away. He slid the wallet into his back pocket, and lay down on the bed next to Damian.

It was early in the afternoon, and if he was going to look for a job then now was the perfect time.  
He watched Damian sleep for another 5 minutes before waking him up. He was a little nervous that he'd have another fit, but before he could even touch his shoulder Damian was awake. It was unsettling. When Damian had first come to them, he'd woken up like this. You couldn't even open his bedroom door without waking him up, and over the years he'd learned to accept his safety and sleep peacefully, but now it appeared they were taking steps backwards. He made a mental note to work on that.  
But for now, he got Damian up, slipped his jacket on him before taking his hand and leaving the hotel.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Dressed in his uniform, the insignia he was so proud of sitting on his chest, Nightwing jumped from rooftop to rooftop, getting in a flip or fancy bound whenever he could. The cold air kissed his cheeks and caressed his hair, his heart beating fast against his chest.

He told Bruce he was going to be out looking for Damian, and it was true, he was. The part he'd conveniently left out was Jason and his involvement. Of course, Bruce asked where he was and Dick lied, saying he was checking with a few sources which was what Dick was doing.

He checked out almost all the places he knew and after almost two days he had gotten absolutely nothing. There was a tiny place in China Town he knew of and it was his last hope. If he didn't get anything here it was back to square one. Too much time had passed, and Dick was beginning to worry.

Dick reached the building and crept in the back where he found a cracked window. It wouldn't be hard to break it, but it would alert whoever was inside, not giving him much time to find his answers.  
Adrenaline pumping through him, he took a running start at the window and dove through it, shielding his head and landing in a perfect stand. He appeared to be in an office, the smell of stale fish cakes wafting in the air. The man he'd landed in front of wasn't startled at all. He just raised an eyebrow at Dick a small smile curving on his lips.

"It took you longer than I had expected,", the man nodded at Dick.

Dick tried not to get excited as he approached the man, glass crunching under his boots. This was where he needed to be.

"Where are they?", Dick boomed. He tried to talk himself into handling this calmly, but his heart was beating to quickly to allow his head to think straight.

"Won't you sit down?", the man offered.

"No,", Dick spoke sharply, "I just want to know where you sent them. I know it was you."

"That's quite the accusation, Nightwing.", the man smiled, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Anger rising in him, he kicked over the nearest chair as he passed it and slammed his fists on the mahogany table.

"Don't play around with me. You've helped him before, but he'd have someone with him this time, a boy, with dark hair and blue eyes, his skin tanned."

The old man just shrugged, his smile growing, "I don't help children. Not like this and you know that."

His anger was flaring and he punched the table again.

"This boy is not well, and he shouldn't be out like this. I know you know where they are!"

"The boy is in much better hands than you could ever provide,"

Bingo. Jason and Damian had been here, and if the old man wasn't going to talk the fat one at the desk would. He stormed past the old man and headed out the door and into the restaurant. He located the over sized man, and stomped over to him.

"You!", he yelled, "A man came in here maybe a week ago. Tan leather jacket, dark hair with a white strip, he had a boy with him. Where did the old man send them?"

The man gulped and looked away with a shrug. Dick hopped up on the counter and squat, grabbing the man by the collar of his sweat stained shirt.

"I know they were here, you know they were here, we all know they were here, now if you don't want to be eating out of a straw for the next year, you're going to tell me where he sent them."

"Canada,", the man blurted, "I think..I-I-I don't know where, I just drove them to the airport."

Dick let go of his collar with a hard shove, and jumped off the counter, sprinting for the door.  
The cool night hit his cheeks and he ran back up the side of the building.

He had to get to the airport. Surveillance would have seen them, and it wouldn't be hard to track them from there. The hard part would be getting to Canada without Bruce or anyone else figuring it out. If they were even there, but it was the only true lead he'd gotten.

"Nightwing, come in, Nightwing."

The familiar buzz of Oracle almost knocked him off his feet.

"Nightwing here,", he replied to the night.

"Batman wants everyone to pull back, and regroup at the cave."

Shit.  
Shit.  
Shit.

"I'm on the other side of Gotham, with no ride. It's going to be awhile. What is it?", he hoped that would throw her off, silently knowing it wouldn't.

"I'm tracking your location and sending your bike. It's urgent, so get your ass back here. Oracle out."

Dick cursed to himself and jumped down from the building to greet his arriving bike. He'd finally gotten a solid lead, and he needed to get on it now. He weighed his options, and it had taken almost no time to make his choice. He pulled out Oracle's ear piece, and ripped off his tracking bracelet. When the bike arrived minutes later, he hopped on it and headed straight to the airport. He didn't have to explain himself to anyone just yet, knowing he'd get an ear-full, but he had to do this.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's always a calm before the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ATTENTION: So as I'm sure you've noted, there are missing chapters.  
> Wanting to take back up my stories I've abandoned, I didn't like the way this was going, so I've cut out a chunk, addressed some earlier plot issues and will be breathing a new life into it!  
> So I hope you'll stick with me as I fix this.  
> Thank you for your support!

A month. A month without nothing. A month with a cold trail at a New Jersey airport. Dick had tried to gain legal access to the surveillance footage, and when he was declined Oracle tried her not so legal route, but no matter how many hours they spent staring at screens, carefully sifting frame by frame for Jason and Damian they found nothing. They searched through passenger lists for aliases, matching birth dates, criminal records, they looked at every possible possibility and came up empty handed. The only two conclusions they came to was that they had boarded a flight with one name and left with another, or Yao lied about them taking a plane and they drove, but boarder crossing had given them no more luck than passenger lists. 

Oracle and Dick didn't give up at first but when she implored Dick to tell Bruce, he shut her out of it completely. Although there was no way the worlds greatest detective hadn't put two and two together. It didn't take him long to notice that Jason had disappeared from patrol, he stopped coming around, hadn't once come by to aid in the search for Damian. He never directly asked Dick, but after a little bit he stopped asking things of Dick altogether. 

Dick's self reasoning was, there was a reason Jason kept this to himself and as much as he loved Bruce he would only make matters worse. So Dick carried on alone. He searched record after record, watched airport tapes for hours on end, and when it was insisted he go outside he drove from border to border to try and pick up on anything he could. But he always came up empty handed. It was like they didn't exist. Like Damian had never really come back, and Jason had fallen away with him. 

At first he was angry, so inexplicably angry, knowing that he had just been on the other side of a door from his youngest sibling had boiled a rage in him. Truly, he was still angry but calmer now, he just wanted to be sure they were both alright and above all things he wanted to ask Jason why. Why had he done this; gone about things this way, why didn't he ask for help. That was the most puzzling thing to him.

His eyes were burning as he watched the same monotonous footage for the umpteenth time on the enormous screen. At this point he had it memorized. Who would get up, who would replace them, what snacks were eaten at what time, which security guard would be caught with one fist in a bag of chips and two fingers up his nose. But every single time he prepped himself for it, he was certain there had to be something he was missing, something new would come across this time. It never did.

"Dick, this is insane. Go to bed, I'll take over.", Tim's voice was a guilty relief.

He had been so amazing throughout all of this, helping in the streets, helping with the company, helping Alfred through the many nights of full houses. Nobody said anything as all efforts were pooled into finding Damian, but it wasn't like Tim to ask anyone of anything,

"No,", Dick politely declined, "You're about as wrecked as I am, if not more. You go up, I won't finish the whole thing, promise."

Tim sighed and rest his chin on Dick's shoulder, watching the footage with him. 

"I just don't understand..", Dick pondered aloud, "Why...why would he do this? Why didn't he say anything?" 

He never outright told Tim, or Bruce or anyone for that matter but it was becoming obvious after a month. 

"Really?" Tim sounded genuinely confused "You haven't pieced it together?"

Dick swiveled in the massive computer chair and turned to his brother. Looking at him quickly, he was completely burnt out. Dark circles kissed the skin under his eyes; his hair lifeless and greasy.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean.", Tim sighed, "Damian was put in the pit, yeah? Well so was Jay. There isn't another person on this Earth, probably, who knows what either of them are going through. Jason found Damian and probably saw the scared kid he felt Bruce abandonned. I mean, it's not like either of them ever really got along, but I can't imagine what kind of state Jason found him in, so I don't know, he probably panicked and got some weird protective about it. You and Bruce are too busy being giant asses, I don't know how neither of you saw it."  
It was the first thing in months that made complete and total sense. Of course Jason would bond with Damian, want to protect him. Dick let out a long breath and ran his fingers through his hair.

"You know, we don't give you nearly enough credit."

"I know," Tim smirked tiredly "We'll find them, okay? Just don't run yourself into the ground before that, yeah?"

Before Dick could respond the lights on the Batmobile's runway lit up, and Dick quickly shut down the surveillance footage in front of him. Tim frowned at something on the screen Dick missed. 

"I'm gonna head up, alright?" he said suddenly, "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah." Dick mused. 

Tim went up the dark corridor as Bruce sped in. He watched as he pulled in and just as quickly jumped out, cowl off. He looked broodier than usual. 

"Anything?" Dick asked, knowing there would be nothing. 

Bruce stalked over to where Dick sat at the massive computer and nodded, "Yes. But it isn't good."

Alfred appeared seemingly out of nowhere, a tray of assorted crustless sandwiches in hand. All of this seemed to age the old man 20 years, but he worked harder than ever in true Alfred fashion. 

Dick sprung off the chair nearly knocking the butler over. 

"What is it?" 

Bruce took his place and brought up some unnamed files onto the screen. 

This was the first mention of anything at all since they heard Damian was back, something he never elaborated on. 'He's back, trust me.' was all he said, and everyone did.

"Our time is up.", he said ominously. 

"What?" Dick pressed. "B, I don't need you going all Nigma on me. What's up? Time? What time?"

Bruce sighed heavily, tired, "The League is stepping in."


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason and Damian have built a life for themselves in a small Canadian town. Everything changes when the League of Assassins finds them. Hal Jordan makes an appearance.

One month.

A month with no contact, no help, nothing. A month of no Bruce, no Dick, no family, no friends. A month of looking over their shoulders, constantly looking for signs that someone had found them. Nobody had. They were alone.  
Jason had moved his little family of two out of their dinky motel room after finding a job at a small mechanic shop called Joe's Repairs--for the first time in his life his knowledge of carjacking was actually doing some good. The old man running the place, Joe and his wife Mary, had taken pity on the "single father" and invited Jason and Damian to live in loft upstairs as soon as he heard that Jason was living in a motel.

When Jason and Damian were moving in, Joe had told them they'd have everything but meals, but after seeing how skinny and haunted Damian looked, Mary was having none of that. It started with some warm leftovers, then she was cooking for four and bringing up their meals, and finally she just knocked on their door and told them they better get to the table before their supper got cold. Jason wasn't one to waste such kindness, but after a week of home cooked meals, Jason showed up at Mary's door with an armload of groceries.

"Oh, dear! Jason that wasn’t necessary," Mary started.

"It is necessary, and I'm making dinner tonight. My abuelito's famous tacos."

And so the loft quickly became their home. It wasn’t very big: a kitchenette, bathroom, and a spacious enough living space with a futon that also doubled as their couch. It wasn't a lot, but it was enough for them. Jason worked hard for Joe during the day, and spent time with Damian in the evenings. God, Damian had made so much progress in the last few weeks. The black in his hair had grown in, and instead of dying it back Jason had it cut short. He looked like Damian again. His eating habits were slowly returning to normal, and Damian could eat a whole meal without a nearly as much fuss. He still couldn't handle rich food, which they discovered when Damian was severely ill after Mary chided him to finish his chowder at dinner, to her horror. Since then, Mary had been extra careful to only prepare easy to digest meals.

During Jason’s work hours, Mary insisted that she watch Damian. She and Joe had tried their hardest to have kids of their own, so having him around was "a blessing," she assured him. At first, Jason had been hesitant, but the two of them warmed up to each other quickly. Damian helped with laundry, he helped prepare lunch and supper, helped her with her sewing, all while she chatted his ear off. The only thing that hadn’t changed was the haunted look in his eyes, and the fact that he hadn't uttered a word. It had been a week, maybe two, since Damian had a bad episode, but other than that the two of them had settled into a healthy routine. Mary and Joe never asked questions, and Jason was able to provide Damian with as normal a life as he could.   
Everything was fine during the day. It was the nights that haunted Jason.

It wasn’t the fact that Jason was lonely and homesick. He missed patrol. He missed Alfred. He missed Roy and Kori. And hell, he'd even admit he missed Bruce. It had nothing to do with the fact that he couldn’t sleep without a beer, that when Damian cried in his sleep, Jason cried too. He had no regrets about taking Damian. That was something he was sure he’d never regret in all the years to come.

Looking at his little brother was a reminder of everything he’d gone through. The pain, the fear, the loneliness, all of it. Bruce had promised, sworn that this would never happen again, that nobody would ever be in that level of pain again. Yet here they were. As lonely as he was, he still wanted to punch Bruce in the face the next time they saw each other. If they ever saw each other again. 

Nights would come and go where Jason would miss Gotham--something he never thought could happen--but all it would take was a look at Damian to reignite the flame, to remind him what he was fighting for. Had he let Bruce take him, had sent Damian back to the Manor, he would be locked away until Bruce was satisfied that he was at least mentally stable, then tossed back in the streets to continue the all-important "mission." Jason had hoped when he died and came back that Bruce had learned his lesson, that he would never put a kid back in that suit. But he hadn’t, first with Tim and now with Damian. And to make it worse, they were only getting younger. Screw the mission. Not again. Never again. 

Snapping out of his thoughts, Jason realized that is was almost sunrise and he hadn’t actually slept. Vigilante habits. Former vigilante habits, anyway. He rolled over to face Damian who was breathing evenly. Jason smiled as he ran his fingers through Damian's short hair before getting up carefully. Today would be no different than the last few weeks had been. He’d go outside and have a cigarette before waking Damian. The two would have a quiet breakfast before Jason went to work and Damian walked over to the small house behind the garage. Jason wouldn’t see Damian again until lunch, and supper after that. Once everything was cleaned, Jason would give Damian a bath, get him in his pajama's (a gift from Mary, they had little on them--the irony), settle him into bed and then the duo would watch TV until they fell asleep. 

Today was looking much the same. He grabbed his cigarettes by the door and lit one before walking outside, giving Damian a last glance before heading out into the cold Canadian morning. 

A large wraparound hugged the garage, giving Jason a place to stretch his legs. The neighbourhood they were in was relatively desolate. There were a few houses a good quarter of a mile on either side, across the street from them a gas station, and nothing else. Something Jason was thankful for. 

Turning the corner alongside the building, Jason froze. A man, dressed in all black was perched on the railing, tense and ready to fight. Jason forced his body to relax, mind racing, as he tried to come up with a plan. In the mean time, he'd keep up his civilian charade as long as possible. He took one last drag and tossed his cigarette off the balcony.

“Can I help you, asshole?” he snapped. 

The man stepped down from the ledge, and Jason cursed in his mind. There was only one organization in the world that trained fighters to be that fluid, that graceful, that silent. Shit. He was League of Assassins. Panic was bubbling up in his chest, and Jason fought the urge to glance at the door, to check on Damian. He couldn't reveal Damian's position. A thousand thoughts were running through Jason's head, but when the assassin launched himself forward, only one thought penetrated his panic: protect Damian. Jason instinctively reached for his gun. Shit. He'd left it inside, under the bed. Joe had looked at him suspiciously when he saw Jason's holster, and he had decided that weapons weren't exactly a part of a healthy childhood and had hidden them away. It had seemed like a good idea at the time.

The assassin used those seconds to his advantage, darted at Jason, unsheathing a sword in one smooth motion and preparing to strike. Jason ducked away easily, and backed away from the house, turning the corner. The assassin followed, matching his footsteps. Good. Jason didn't want this man anywhere near his brother. The assassin was gaining ground, but Jason forced himself to stay calm and keep leading him towards the stairs. He'd be at a disadvantage in the open space of the driveway, with nothing to hinder the sword's reach. But Jason was confident he could handle a sword. What he couldn't handle was the League getting their hands on Damian.

The assassin lunged at Jason, who jumped backwards in barely enough time to avoid getting skewered, but lost his balance at the top of the stairs. The assassin took advantage of the second of unbalance and lunged. At that moment, a soft clicking noise made his heart stop. Damian had opened the door, peering out curiously. Their eyes met for only a fraction of a second before the assassin was on top of him, and they were tumbling down the stairs. Ever stair dug into his ribs, and Jason was sure he'd feel that later, but as they fell, Jason managed to grab the assassin in a headlock and by the time they landed at the bottom, Jason was choking the air from his lungs, arms securely locked around the assassin's neck as he tried to break free. His attempts to escape were growing weaker when a shadow made Jason's stomach sink. Another assassin. Of-fucking-course. As Jason shoved the unconscious assassin off him, the other darted for the stairs.

“Damian! Run! Hide!” Jason roared, surging to his feet. A white hot pain seared his side when he stood, and his hand came away sticky with blood when he pressed a hand to his side. Shit. The fucker had got him. Jason grit his teeth, ignoring the pain, and bounded up the stairs, taking three at a time.

Whatever stupor Damian had been in, he snapped out of it now and slammed the door shut before the assassin could reach him. But Ra's al Ghul's assassins were not hindered by mere wood. Jason's heart lurched when the door gave way, but he stumbled as the movement sent a white hot agony through his body that threatened to send him to his knees. He only stayed on his feet through the force of free will. He looked over at the assassin looming in the doorway over his brother a small blade resting in his hands, the tip red with what Jason presumed was his own blood. He cursed lowly stumbled forward, hand pressed to his side. He had to get to Damian. There was no way he could hold his own in there, and Jason had to protect him, swore to protect him. He grabbed the railing hard, his knuckles white, and took a shaky step forward. 

“Jason? Jason, is that you?” 

Jason spun around, the movement sending setting his nerves on fire with pain, and if the day couldn’t get any worse, it was about to. Hal Jordan stood across the street, in civvies, plastic bag in hand. If Jason were in any other situation, he would have laughed at the expression on Hal's face. But now there was no time for anything. Jason swore loudly as he ignored Hal and brought his attention back to the assassin.

“Damian,” Jason huffed, “Upstairs. Now.”

Damian darted away, and before Jason could move, Hal blew past him and into their home. Jason's legs gave out, and collapsed in a graceless heap and coughed, the taste of blood in his mouth. There was a million questions he should have been asking himself, but the only one that seemed to matter right then was Damian. It took Hal what felt like an eternity to come out, Jason eagerly shoving himself to his feet when Hal reemerged wearing his green uniform. It was much harder to stand than it should have been. 

Hal stood in the doorway, arms crossed and Green Lantern Corps emblem glowing. It burned Jason's eyes.

“Where is he?” Jason's voice was hoarse, so he added a glare for extra measure. 

“He’s inside. He's fine,” Hal said, moving to block Jason from entering. "You, on the other hand…"

"Let me see him."

"Not until I patch you up, Jason."

Jason would have tried to throw a punch, if his goddamn legs hadn't chosen that moment to give out. He lurched, and Hal was there offering support. Jason gritted his teeth and swore, as Hal gently lowered him to the ground. Hal chuckled in his ear. "Your mother should wash your mouth out with soap."

"She's dead," Jason gasped in pain as Hal set him down and yanked up his shirt. Hal peered forward and his ring began to glow. An eerie tingling feeling later coupled with a sudden onset of nausea indicated the ring was working. Jason closed his eyes against the green light. After a few moments it was over. Jason looked down. His would was knitting itself back together. Although he was still coated in his own blood, he wasn’t bleeding anymore. 

Jason surged to his feet and swayed dangerously.

Hal steadied him. "Woah. I stitched you up, but you still lost a lot of blood. That's gonna take some ti--"

Jason pushed past him and into his house.

“What the hell are you doing, Jason? Do you have any id–”

“Where is he?” Jason deadpanned, already halfway up the stairs.

Hal just sighed as it became obvious that Jason wasn't going to talk until he had eyes on his brother, and followed him into the loft and up the stairs.

"Damian?" Jason called, yanking open their bedroom door.

His heart stopped beating when he saw Damian's body on the floor, limp and unmoving. The assassin was crumpled in the corner, scissors sticking out of his eye. From the blood splatters on Damian's hands, it was easy to see that he'd killed the assassin. Damn. Jason crashed to his knees beside his brother, and gathered him in his arms, ignoring the blood, the pain, the fear. All he cared about was the boy in his arms.

"Shit," Hal said, crouching next to them. "He was fine when I left him."

Jason stared down at his unconscious brother, his breathing erratic, eyelids fluttering, limp and lifeless in his arms. He was obviously overwhelmed by what had happened. An anger like none he'd ever felt boiled up inside him. "He is not fine. He hasn't been fine since he was fucking murdered. Just get away from us and go back to your goddamned Justice League and leave us the fuck alone."

Hal straightened, and looked down at the boy in his arms sadly. "Jason, Bruce needs to--"

"Don’t you dare. Don't you fucking dare call him.

"I'm sorry," Hal said quietly. "It's out of my hands now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> huge huge HUGE monumental shoutout to @thegalacticpope for helping me edit this chapter. Please, check out her work, she is a phenomenal writer.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason is put between a rock and a hard place. He has to move fast.

"Don't you dare. Don't you fucking dare call him."

"I'm sorry," Hal said quietly. "It's out of my hands now."

Jason's heart sank as he noticed a familiar flashing light coming from the Lantern Corps emblem on Hal's chest. One of Bruce's trackers. God-fucking-damnit all to hell. Now Bruce would know exactly where they were. Jason closed allowed himself one second to feel the world fall apart around him. Again. 

Jason sucked in a deep breath and opened his eyes, mind racing. Hal hadn't sent an emergency signal. Which meant Bruce would respond in the next 20 minutes. The a message would be sent to the Tower, too, but they'd only be able to receive it if Bruce didn't answer. Which he most likely would, unless he was busy with a case. But that would be good. He could successfully evade anyone but the world's most damned brilliant detective. 

Worst case scenario, Bruce could be on his way in 20 minutes. If he took the Batwing, he could be there in 90 minutes. Jason needed more time.

His eyes flickered to Hal, who was heading to the door to send a message to Bruce, to explain what had happened. Once Bruce heard that he'd found Jason and Damian, he'd come rushing. But if he never got that call....

The decision was already made, and Jason was up and moving, having gently placed Damian on the ground. In two steps he had grabbed the weighted baseball bat he kept by the door and strode towards Hal, who was patiently waiting for an answer. Jason's foot creaked on a floorboard as he approached, and Hal turned to face him. 

"Hey, sorry but I wa--" Jason swung heavily, and hit Hal in the forehead and he dropped like a stone.

"Sorry, Hal," Jason grunted as he knelt next to the unconscious hero and turned off the blinking light. He needed the extra time.  After taking a moment to check Hal's vitals, he was off.

Jason strode to Damian and scooped up the child, setting him gently on the bed. Jason ran to the bathroom and wetted a washcloth with steaming water. He stared at himself in the mirror as he twisted the excess water out of the soaking cloth. He looked tired, haunted. He shook his head and went back to the bedroom. He sat on the bed and gathered Damian into his arms, pulling off his shirt. The kid was still too scrawny for his own good, and his ribs were prominent, but he was gaining back some of the muscle definition he had worked so hard for. Jason gently scrubbed the blood from Damian's skin, wanting him to be clean, to be healthy, but most of all he just wanted to protect this child from all the pain he was feeling. Damian seemed to relax in his arms, and curled into his embrace.

Jason's heart squeezed painfully. He wanted nothing more than to curl up with Damian in his arms. To fall asleep and wake up in the morning and live their lives as usual.

But that wasn't going to happen. The League of Shadows found them. Bruce was going to find them. They had to get moving. Jason pressed his lips to Damian's temple and pulled a clean shirt over his head. Setting him back down gently, Jason pulled the covers over his unconscious form. Let him rest.

Jason got to work He grabbed the backpack Damian brought over to Mary's during the week dumped its contents onto the floor unceremoniously. He yanked open some drawers and shoved some of Damian's clothes into it. As an afterthought, he shoved Damian's sketchbook inside. He had begun to draw again, with his time with Mary. Mostly landscapes and animals. Jason didn't want to deny him such a small comfort on the long road ahead. Jason stormed to the closet and grabbed two duffel bags; one he filled with his own clothes, the other with the guns and knives he had hidden around the house. 

Next, he had to deal with money. He'd blown most of his savings to get their fake IDs, and he hadn't made much working for Joe. If they were gonna make it to... wherever the hell they were going next, they'd need money. Lots of it. 

Bruce had a lot of money.

After double-checking on Damian and reassuring himself that the kid would be okay for a few minutes, Jason shrugged on his coat and ran across the street to the gas station and the ATM machine tucked in the corner. He dug around his jeans until he finally found his wallet, and pulled a black, shiny card that he'd never used before. 

He'd been saving this trick for a time when Bruce had particularly pissed him off. Maybe buy a really sick motorcycle, or a house, or something really annoyingly extravagant. Bruce had given each of his children an 11 digit BIC number and a correlating access code for each of his children. His legally not-dead children, that is. But what Bruce didn't  know was that Jason stole Dick's code ages ago.

This would alert Bruce to their position. But Hal was going to do that anyway. And since he'd be withdrawing money under Dick's name from an offshore account... it would take a while for anybody to notice. Hal would most likely wake up and contact Bruce before he noticed the slight anomaly in his accounts. Probably.

Jason muttered a prayer under his breath as he punched in Dick's code and held his breath as the machine processed his request. This was gonna be one hell of a withdrawal. Jason knew from his time as a kid on the streets that ATMs could hold anywhere from $84 to $120 thousand. Jason wanted it all. 

He had to wait an uncomfortably long time for all that money to be dispensed, shifting his weight impatiently and frequently glancing over towards the house where Damian slept.

Finally, when it was done, Jason had $95k in cash in his duffel. He pulled Bruce's card out of the machine and bent it in half, chucking it in the trash. It'd be useless now. Jason jogged back across the street and up the stairs to the apartment that had become their home these past few weeks. Jason wasn't all that torn up about leaving, but his heart ached with the thought of uprooting Damian in this state. But he didn't really have a choice.

Securing the bags on his shoulders, Jason knelt and ran his hand gently through Damian's hair. His breathing was still erratic, and a small crease lined his forehead. Jason frowned, worry flashing through his mind. But he'd have to deal with this new trauma later. For now, he had to get Damian somewhere safe. 

Jason scooped up his brother's limp form and cradled him close. The way his unconscious body lolled lifelessly alarmed Jason, but he forced himself back out the door. The stairs creaked under their combined weight as Jason trudged down the stairs. He grunted as he managed to shove the garage door open with his hands full of sleepy little boy and weighted down with clothes, and guns, and money. 

Guilt ate at his soul as Jason realized he'd have to steal one of Joe's cars. After all he and Mary'd done for them, Jason was going to repay their kindness with this bullshit. Jason managed to get the passenger's side door open, and gently placed Damian down, taking a minute to fuss, and making sure he was buckled in and comfortable. Then Jason popped the trunk and threw in all their stuff. But as he glanced around the garage where he'd earned his keep for the past few weeks, he couldn't stand the thought of taking so much from people who had shown them such kindness when they had so little.

"Fuck it," Jason grumbled, and rustled around the duffel bag until he found a wad of cash. He quickly counted out $10,000 and shoved it in an envelope. He scrawled a quick 'Sorry' on the front, and placed it on the key rack where he snatched up the keys. The hunk of junk they were stealing was worth nowhere near 10 grand, and Jason knew they could use the money to get a new car. 

Jason opened the garage door as quietly as he could before strode over to the driver's door. He took one last look around their makeshift home.

"Sorry."

Jason slid into the seat, started the car, and backed out into the frigid night air. The headlights cut through the implacable night. Jason didn't look back as the small loft disappeared in the rearview mirror, and instead focused on the scattered breathing of the little boy beside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again a huge thanks to TheGalacticPope!!


End file.
